


Back from the Brink

by ReadTheSubtext



Category: Nikita (TV 2010)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-28
Updated: 2012-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-30 06:21:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReadTheSubtext/pseuds/ReadTheSubtext
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Taking a leap of faith wasn’t easy, but when Nikita told her she had something to live for, Alex almost dared to believe her." This fic pre-dates the series itself and focuses on Nikita and Alex's relationship after that gut-wrenching suicide attempt in 1x02 (along with the events leading up to it).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back from the Brink

For two years, Alex dreamt of fleeing from Vlad; fantasised about wiping that feral grin off his face. She saw what happened to the other girls; how their disgust turned into apathy, how their whimpers regressed into silence; how they stopped struggling and spread their legs in acceptance of the inevitable. Alex wanted to be stronger than that; she wanted to fight back, but every time she did, she just wound up with more bruises. The imprint of someone’s hand around her throat; a split lip; a fractured cheekbone.

Irina was always there to pick up the pieces, though, and held her close until the tears started to subside. Those rare glimpses of humanity were all Alex had left to cling to, and she made sure she was there to return the favour when Irina got the rough end of the deal; blotting away the blood from her friend’s face or stroking her hair until she stopped shaking. 

Everyone always said that the first time was the worst and, in a way, they were right. Still, for Alex, nothing compared to the horror of realising that her flea-infested curtains were going to be pulled back five - maybe eight - times a day, and that Vlad was never going to stop ushering remorseless assholes into the squalid alcove she called her room.

The smack was supposed to tame her rebellious urges and make her too compliant to care, but Vlad had to wrestle her to the floor and pin her down before she let him stick her with a needle the first time around. She didn’t want to be pumped full of the junk that turned the other girls into puppets on a string, but soon she started welcoming the respite and it didn’t take her long to start begging for more. She was never completely numb to the pain, though, and even when the days started blurring together and she was too strung out to distinguish one face from the next, a part of Alex still refused to accept that this had become her fate. 

Then she got lucky. One of her regulars turned up wearing a belt that she recognised from her hunting trips with her father and, once she’d managed to swallow the surge of emotion at being confronted with a memory she had long since tried to repress, she focused on retrieving the switchblade she knew was concealed within the ornate buckle. It wasn’t easy, given that her limbs felt like lead and her palms were slick with sweat, but she managed to slip it under her thin mattress as it buckled under the bastard’s weight, and he… well, he was too preoccupied to notice.

As rank sweat trickled onto her face and calloused hands yanked at her hair, Alex squeezed her eyes shut and prayed that this time would be like all the others; that this guy whose name she didn’t even know would barely pause to zip up his pants on the way out, or spare her a second glance. 

It took her three days to work up the courage to make a break for it, and she tried not to dwell on Irina’s devastated expression when she told her what she was planning to do. The other girl refused to take the risk, so Alex impulsively retrieved her father’s watch from a crevice in the wall, knowing that the relic from her affluent past could help to secure her friend’s future if Irina ever found a way out. She told Irina that she’d stolen it from a client, and the brunette was too high to question why Alex was crying as she handed it over. 

* * *

Alex was experiencing the first pangs of withdrawal when Vlad made his nightly rounds, bringing her a sparse supper and unlocking the chains binding her feet to the bed. It took all of her willpower not to reach for the syringe lying next to the foul-smelling goulash, knowing that it would be all-too-easy to retreat into oblivion again.

Holding her breath, Alex gripped the switchblade until her knuckles turned white, and lashed out as soon as her captor was within arms’ reach, aiming for his jugular. Her hands were shaking so badly, though; she wound up cleaving a gash into the side of his face instead.

Vlad howled with outrage, and although the keening sound made her blood run cold, Alex kicked and clawed at him until his vice-like grip on her wrists loosened. Staggering out of the room and through the murky corridors felt like an out-of-body experience. All she could do was hope that the other girls’ catcalls would send the guards running in their direction instead of hers. 

She’d longed to taste fresh air again, but when she emerged above ground, gasping into the darkness, the frigid breeze hit her like a two-by-four and made her even more nauseous than she was already. She kept running regardless, even though her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to explode; even though her legs were so weak she stumbled and tripped like a drunken idiot. 

She was in the middle of a field when the adrenaline rush finally started to subside and the cramps took over. She collapsed into a pile of sodden grass, retching convulsively, and it finally occurred to her that she had no-where to run to. 

The police weren’t an option. She had no papers to verify her citizenship, and if she revealed her true identity, it would be tantamount to signing her own death warrant. They would deport her back to Russia, and she knew there would always be a price on her head until her father’s successors had definitive proof that she’d died in that fire. Even if she managed to fool them into thinking she was just a poor peasant girl lured here under false pretences, she would still be sent back to the freezing streets of Moscow, where she’d have to whore herself out in sub-zero temperatures, waiting for another ruthless asshole to stake his claim.

So she kept on going, sprinting through the streets on bare feet, acutely aware of the stench of her soiled clothes now she was no longer confined to that fetid hovel where everything smelt like sewage. She felt the tiniest glimmer of hope when she found the Homeless shelter, but when she pounded on the door, screaming for someone to let her in, the proprietor’s eyes widened with alarm. It was only then that Alex realised she was still clutching the bloody switchblade in her hands, and with the sheen of sweat on her skin and the manic look in her eyes; not to mention the track marks strewn across her arms, she could hardly blame the woman for slamming the door in her face and telling her to come back when she was clean.

Alex begged her to reconsider regardless; and when her sobs fell on deaf ears, she resorted to hollering obscenities instead. She launched an assault on the door, kicking and punching it until the wood started to splinter. It was only when she heard the distant wail of sirens that she realised her hysterical entreaties were making her seem even more strung out. 

After an hour of aimless wandering, she eventually limped her way back to the field, collapsing under a copse of trees. Eyeing the twigs lining the ground beneath her, she gathered up some kindling and grass and, with trembling hands, scoured the floor for a makeshift flint. Her hands were raw and blistering by the time a spark finally sprung forth from between the jagged stone and her demolished switchblade. 

She hadn’t forgotten everything her Papa had taught her, although she knew if he could see her now, his expression would not be one of pride. Squeezing her eyes shut so she wouldn’t have to look at the flickering flames, Alex curled into a foetal position and tried not to remember where this living nightmare began.

* * *

After a year of sleeping under bridges and sheltering in doorways; foraging for food and flinching every time she heard footsteps behind her, Alex realised that there was no such thing as freedom. You just traded one kind of hell for another. 

Now, freedom meant that she got to choose the guys she fucked for money. She always made them pay first, and was careful to watch where they stashed their wallets before they unzipped their pants. Robbing them while they were getting their rocks off was surprisingly easy, and Alex quickly became adept at the art of pick-pocketing. 

Even still, she was careful to select guys who weren’t that physically imposing, because she had a better chance of fending them off if they realised they were paying a hell of a lot more for her services than they’d anticipated. She honed in on the ones who stuttered and stammered when they approached her; the ones who looked a little guilty for being there in the first place. She figured if they were nervous enough to think twice - if they asked rather than demanded - then she stood a chance of emerging from the dank alleyways without any battle scars. Guys like that didn’t come along all that often, but on the upside, they were usually too embarrassed to report her to the police. She’d only had to re-locate a handful of times. 

She got her stash from reputable dealers at first, but somewhere along the line, she stopped caring where it came from, or who was selling it to her. The cravings gnawed at her constantly now; partly because her tolerance threshold was getting higher, but mostly because she needed a buffer from reality now more than ever. At least when she’d been at Vlad’s mercy, she could fantasise about escaping; envisage how much better life would be on the outside. Now she was finally here, she understood the meaning of false hope, and dying didn’t scare her anymore. 

She never considered going back, though, because she knew Vlad wouldn’t be kind enough to kill her; not when she’d been his most lucrative investment. Instead, he would make an example of her, and she could barely bring herself to imagine what that would entail.

Getting clean was never an option. Even when the withdrawals were excruciating, even when she was writhing on the floor in agony, the smack was the only thing that made her life bearable. 

Until Nikita came along.

* * *

It wasn’t easy to trust Nikita at first. After being punched in the face, kidnapped, and made to sweat it out in a sauna-cum-torture chamber, Alex wasn’t feeling especially benevolent towards her self-appointed Saviour. 

Sure, Nikita may have rescued her from Ronnie and his asshole friends and helped her to retain what little dignity she had left, but Alex knew people didn’t do stuff like that without expecting something in return. 

She didn’t buy Nikita’s cock-and-bull story about wanting to help out another addict, but trying to wheedle more information out of the enigmatic woman was like banging her head against a brick wall. Nikita always evaded her questions, or tossed them back at her. Either way, she was incapable of giving Alex a straight answer.

Her supermodel looks weren’t fooling Alex, either. Nikita clearly wasn’t your average nine-to-fiver. Alex had seen first hand what the deceptively svelte woman was capable of, how she could floor a roomful of guys without batting an eyelid. She’d swatted Ronnie like a fly, and although Alex secretly got a kick out of replaying that moment late at night, a part of her couldn’t help but fear what would happen if Nikita ever turned that wrath on her. 

Alex hadn’t paid much attention to the over-sized suitcase on the living room floor until she realised it was practically housing a munitions factory. Waking up in the middle of the night to find Nikita deftly assembling a submachine gun had left Alex wondering if the other woman was planning to spray her with bullets while she slept. 

Seeing Alex frozen in a tableau of terror, Nikita had immediately placed the MP5 on the counter, holding up her hands reassuringly. _“Relax, Alex,”_ she’d said, but it was easier said than done.

Nikita gave her a roof over her head; bought her clothes; asked her what she wanted from the grocery store, and all the while Alex slept with one eye open, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

It didn’t take long for her to start climbing the walls and going stir-crazy, but Nikita kept all of the doors and windows locked. There was no way out and too much time to think, and Alex knew if she didn’t get a hit soon, she was going to start remembering all the stuff the smack had allowed her to forget. 

Eventually, she lost it, and charged at Nikita with a butter knife, screaming at her to hand over the keys. Tanked up with rage, she felt like she could take on the world if she had to, but she barely got within a foot of the other woman before she found herself lying flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling and gasping for air. 

Nikita towered over her with that annoyingly unflappable expression, juggling the knife in her right hand.

“Do it.” Alex kicked the other woman’s shins with all the ferocity of a toddler having a temper tantrum, trying to goad her into action. “Come on. Kill me.”

Nikita just rolled her eyes, tossed the knife aside and made a grab for Alex’s thrashing legs. She tugged her forwards until they were practically nose-to-nose. 

“I told you, Alex, I’m not going to hurt you. Not unless I have to,” she said evenly, eyeing the knife with a raised eyebrow.

The next time Nikita left her alone, Alex decided to be more proactive about finding some answers. Resisting the urge to trash the place out of spite, she carefully opened drawers, rummaged around in cupboards, and checked for hollow floorboards. She was desperate to get her hands on anything that might reveal more about who this woman was, and what she wanted from her. 

In the end, she found something even better. Alex almost cried with relief when she stumbled across the vial of painkillers. She didn’t hesitate to empty the bottle, shoving the pills into her mouth as fast as she could swallow them, and for a few blissful moments, there was nothing but darkness… and then she was choking on some foul-tasting liquid and spilling her guts all over the floor.

Apparently, raising her from the dead was the incentive Nikita needed to start talking. 

Taking a leap of faith wasn’t easy, but when Nikita told her she had something to live for, Alex almost dared to believe her. There was a quiet desperation in the other woman’s eyes as she wordlessly held out her hand, and in that moment, Alex realised that Nikita needed the lifeline almost as much as she did. 

Alex let Nikita haul her off the floor and out of the abyss, heard her breathe a ragged sigh of relief as their arms entwined, and neither of them rushed to sever the connection. Nikita eased her onto the bed, still gripping her forearm, and Alex sat in stunned silence, trying to process what the brunette had told her.

_“I was following you, Alex. I’ve been searching for you for over two years. I know how you got here; where you came from. I know who killed your parents.”_

“You know who I am?”

Nikita knelt down in front of her, nodding solemnly as she met Alex’s panicked gaze. 

“But… how?”

Nikita hesitated, biting her lower lip. “That’s a story for another time.”

“No.” Alex fought the urge to scream with frustration. “You don’t get to talk in riddles anymore, OK? I’m sick of you feeding me snippets of information but never giving me any _details._ I want to know. Now.”

“Alex, you just tried to kill yourself. Trust me, you’re not ready to hear this.” 

“I’m not ready to hear it?” Alex echoed, her tone raising a decibel in disbelief, “I fucking lived _through_ it, OK? So don’t worry about pushing me over the edge, Lady. I’m already there.”

Nikita lowered her head, suddenly intent on avoiding eye contact. “I’m going to run you a bath so you can get cleaned up.”

“I don’t want a bath!” Alex practically shrieked, “I want to know who the hell killed my parents.” She gripped the fabric of Nikita’s blouse and shook her violently, and this time Nikita didn’t make any effort to stop her. “You can’t say something like that and then walk away, OK? You just told me I have something to live for. So prove it.” 

Tears were streaming down Alex’s face, and for one unnerving moment, she thought Nikita was going to cry, too. The brunette rubbed her face with her hands, and then rose gracefully to her feet.

“Alex, I promise I’ll tell you everything, but I need…” Nikita levelled her with a sorrowful stare, “I need to make sure that the truth isn’t going to make you fall off the wagon first.” 

“Why do you even care?” Alex spat out, watching as a pained expression briefly crossed Nikita’s striking features.

When no reply was forthcoming, Alex pushed past the brunette, her posture coiled with tension. “Look, forget it, OK? I’ll run a bath myself.”

“Just don’t drown yourself in there.” Nikita attempted a small smile. “My mouth-to-mouth’s a little rusty.” 

Alex whirled around, her eyes narrowing in a forceful glare. “You really think I want to drink bubble bath after the shit you just made me swallow?” 

“Probably not,” Nikita countered wryly. “Here.” She reached into her pocket and tossed a packet of gum across the room.

“Gee, thanks,” Alex deadpanned with all the sarcasm she could muster, hurling the olive branch back at Nikita before she pointedly added, “For nothing.”

“Alex, wait!” Nikita caught up to her before she could close the bathroom door, gripping her shoulders and forcing her to turn around. Alex had no choice but to meet her repentant gaze. 

“Just don’t…” Nikita swallowed audibly, and then cupped Alex’s face in her hands, running her thumbs lightly over tear-stained cheeks, “Don’t do that to me again, OK? You might not give a damn about whether you live or die, but I do.”

“Well, you’ve got a funny way of showing it.” 

Alex wrenched herself away from Nikita and slammed the bathroom door shut behind her; knees buckling as she bit back a wracking sob. She stared at her wasted reflection in the mirror, trying to get her heart rate under control, and then brought her fingertips to her cheeks, touching them reverently.  

Alex felt a surge of shame when she emerged from the bathroom thirty minutes later to find Nikita on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor where she had spewed up the contents of her stomach. 

“I would’ve done that,” she muttered, a little defensively, and Nikita glanced up at her with a sad smile.

“Don’t worry about it; I’m almost done.”

“Yeah, well…” Alex faltered, taking a deep breath, “Thanks… you know, for everything.”

Nikita nodded, but her attention remained fixed on the floor. “You’ve had a rough day. You should get some sleep.”

For once, Alex did as she was told, towel-drying her hair before she crawled into bed. She was expecting the sheets to be cold, but instead she found herself enveloped in warmth, and she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry when she looked down to see a fluffy hot-water bottle resting on her mattress. She picked it up, hugging it to her chest, and chanced a fleeting glance at Nikita. She got the impression that she’d hurt the other woman’s feelings, and the thought unsettled her, even though it was hard to believe that her opinion mattered enough to have an impact on anyone. 

Alex tried not to react when she felt her bed dip under Nikita’s weight an hour or so later. She kept her eyes closed while the brunette reached out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear, and focused on controlling her breathing as Nikita softly stroked her hair. She’d forgotten what tenderness felt like, but her eyes flew open when she felt Nikita’s fingers dip lower, brushing against her ribcage. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

Alex sat bolt upright, levelling Nikita with an accusatory stare, and it took her a moment to realise that the other woman had just been trying to tentatively prise the now-lukewarm water bottle out of her grasp.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” she said, her heart wrenching when she saw the shell-shocked expression on Nikita’s face. 

“Look, I don’t expect you to trust me, Alex, but I would never… _ever_ – ” Nikita trailed off, her voice raw with repressed emotion, and Alex gazed into wounded hazel eyes.

“I know,” she said softly, and for the first time, she really believed it.  

* * *

Finding out that Nikita was some kind of super-spy changed everything. Deceiving people was part of her job description, and Alex couldn’t afford to take the concern in the other woman’s tone or the compassion in her eyes at face value anymore. Running away seemed like the only option.

Then Nikita turned up out of nowhere again, handing her five thousand bucks and a get-out-of-jail-free card, and Alex didn’t know what to think anymore. 

Nikita had already admitted to being at the Udinov estate at the time of her father’s murder, and Alex found it hard to buy the other woman’s latest sob story about wanting to track her down as some kind of atonement for her sins. Why fixate on her? What made her so special? The answer was obvious. While Alexandra Udinov was living under her roof, Nikita was sitting on a goldmine, and this little gesture of goodwill was probably designed to make Alex think that it was safe to come crawling back to her. 

It would be all-too-easy for the so-called Assassin to lure her into a false sense of security and then sell her to the highest bidder. It’s not like it hadn’t happened before. Nikita was probably just hell-bent on getting her clean first because a washed-out junkie didn’t make for a very convincing heir to Zetrov. 

To top it all off, Nikita was claiming to be the woman who occasionally haunted her dreams; the woman who pulled her out of her father’s cellar all those years ago. Alex vaguely remembered a masked figure scooping her up and shushing her when she tried to scream, holding her close while she fought for her life, wiping her tears away until she eventually passed out from a mixture of terror and exhaustion. For years, she’d tried to recall the face of the woman who promised her she would be safe with her father’s comrade; a woman who had taught her how much it could hurt when a promise was broken. She wasn’t about to let Nikita do that to her all over again.

Still, a part of Alex wanted so badly to believe that Nikita was finally telling her the truth; that her Good Samaritan routine wasn’t grounded in an ulterior motive; that she’d tracked her down because she genuinely cared about her welfare. Guilt was a good motivator, after all. Nikita had saved her life more than once; made her feel like she had a shot at getting clean, got her to a place where escapism wasn’t the only option. For the first time in a long time, Alex felt like a human being instead of a dumping ground for the depraved.

Alex still had so many questions, and she longed to go back to Nikita’s place and demand the answers. If Nikita really was fighting to bring down the people responsible for her parents’ murders, she wanted to know why and she wanted to know how. 

She’d learned a long time ago that favours always came with a price, though, and her instincts were screaming at her to just take the money and run. So, when she strolled into Nikita’s living room the next morning, Alex hoped she wasn’t imagining the relief on the other woman’s face. 

* * *

“So this was your plan all along, right? Leave me here to do the grunt work while you run off to save the world?” Alex stared at her mentor defiantly, and Nikita heaved an aggrieved sigh.

“Alex, how many times do I have to tell you – ” 

“The intel’s just as important as the mission itself,” Alex interjected, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, I know. Ever heard of multi-tasking?” 

“You really think you’ve got the rough end of the deal here?” Nikita demanded, looking incredulous, “You’d rather be out there, getting sprayed with bullets and fighting for your life every single day?”

Alex crossed her arms, leaning against Nikita’s desk. “Maybe if you let me come with you, you wouldn’t have to fight so hard.”

Nikita laughed out loud. “If I let you come with me, you’d get us both killed.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Sensei.”

“I didn’t mean…” Seeing the disgruntled look on Alex’s face, Nikita buried her face in her hands, taking a deep breath. “If you came with me, I would be too busy watching your back to worry about protecting my own.”

“So train me.” It wasn’t the first time Alex had asked, and Nikita groaned with frustration.

“Alex, for the last time, I’m not putting you in the line of fire.”

“And for the last time, I’m sick of sitting in front of a computer screen while you’re out there risking your life.”

“So… go do some shopping; join a gym,” Nikita retorted, gesturing to the door, “It’s not like I’m holding you hostage.”

“Anymore,” Alex concluded wryly, but Nikita didn’t return her smile, “Oh, come on, Nikita, you eat, breathe and sleep the job. I know you expect me to do the same.”

“No, I don’t,” Nikita said intently, her expression suddenly solemn. “That’s not the kind of life I want for you, Alex.” 

“So you’re telling me that you’d still keep a roof over my head if I decided I wanted out?” Alex studied Nikita’s expression attentively, and the sudden loss of eye contact told her all she needed to know. “I mean, I’m practically a computer whiz-kid now, right? I could go work for some big company and get shit rich.”

“If that’s what you want,” Nikita said quietly, looking at the floor.

“What I _want_ is revenge for my family,” Alex reiterated bitterly, “But it’s been three months and we’re still not any closer to bringing the bastards down.”

“Alex, this could take a _lifetime_ , OK? That’s the kind of commitment you’re looking at here, so if you’re not in it for the long haul, then my offer still stands.” Nikita bit her lower lip, gesturing to her desk. “The driver’s license is still valid, and the money’s still in the drawer. If you need more, all you have to do is ask.”

“I guess you can always find some other junkie to do your dirty work, right?” Alex tried her damnedest not to look hurt, but Nikita could read her like a book.

“Alex, look at me.” Nikita grasped the younger woman’s shoulders, squeezing them gently. “You need to know that what we’re doing won’t change what’s happened in the past. It’s not going to bring your parents back, and it’s not going to make you feel any better about what you’ve been through, OK?” 

“And it’s not gonna bring your fiancée back, either, but you’re still willing to put your life on the line, right?”

Nikita shook her head. “This isn’t just about Daniel, Alex. This is about all the innocent people Division have targeted over the years; all the people I was forced to kill just because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I owe them that much, at least. But you… you’re a good person, Alex. You deserve a shot at a normal life.”

“So you’re saying if I’m not willing to play by your rules, then you don’t want me around anymore, right?” Alex’s tone was confrontational, but her body language told a different story.

“It’s not as simple as that. It’s not safe for you to – “ Nikita trailed off when Alex abruptly turned on her heel, marching towards the door. “Alex, come on. Where are you going?”

“Out.”

* * *

Five hours after her door slammed shut, Nikita finally found Alex, slumped in an alleyway with a syringe in her hand. She knelt down besides the shivering girl, and gingerly prised it from her fingers, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw the full barrel and raised plunger. 

“I couldn’t do it,” Alex said brokenly, not sure if she could bear seeing the disappointment in her mentor’s eyes. “But old habits die hard, you know?”

“I know.” Nikita shrugged off her jacket, wrapping it around the younger woman’s shoulders. “You did good, Alex. I’m proud of you.”

“Let me guess; gold star, right?” Alex’s tone was scornful, and she continued to evade Nikita’s gaze. “How did you even find me?”

“I planted a tracking device in your pocket.”

“What?” Alex frantically searched her jeans, and only stopped when she saw that Nikita was trying not to laugh.

“What is that? Spy humour?” 

Nikita rolled her eyes. “Come on, Alex, how do you think I found you? I just spent the past couple of hours freezing my ass off.” 

Alex stared at the brick wall in front of her, scuffing the weathered stones with her sneakers. “Why?”

“What do you mean, “why?”” Nikita tried to clamp down on the agitation in her tone, but her exasperation was more than apparent.

“Why do you pretend to give a damn about me when I’m obviously just a means to an end for you?” 

Alex finally turned tear-filled eyes in her mentor’s direction, and Nikita abruptly looked away.

“Alex, that’s not true. I…” Nikita opened her mouth, and then closed it again. “It’s complicated.”

“Yeah,” Alex acknowledged in a resigned tone, “Everything always is with you.” 

They lapsed into silence for a moment, and Alex took a measured breath, gazing up at the murky night sky. 

“I just… I hate it when you leave,” she confessed quietly. “I never know if you’re coming back. At least if I was there with you, I’d have some control over the situation.”

“I can look after myself.” Nikita’s response was automatic, but it was hard not to show how affected she was by the younger woman’s admission.

“Yeah,” Alex agreed, discreetly swiping at her eyes, “But if something happens to you, who’s gonna look after _me_?”

Nikita found herself blinking rapidly; swallowing the prominent lump in her throat. 

“Alex, you can’t afford to get… attached in this line of work.”

“But you came looking for me anyway,” Alex pointed out, studying Nikita’s expression attentively. 

“Yeah.” Nikita sighed, shifting positions until she was sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with her protégé. “I did.” 

“Look, I want you to know that as long as I’m around, you’ll always have a home with me, Alex. Even if you slip up and start using again.” Nikita hesitated, laying a hand on the younger woman’s knee, “Even if you decide - ”

“That I’d rather be sweeping floors and flipping burgers?” Alex interjected with a sardonic smile, “Because let’s face it, that’s all I’m good for, right?” 

“No!” The fierceness in Nikita’s tone took them both by surprise. “You’re smart, Alex. Smarter than you know. It took some recruits years to master the things you’ve picked up in a couple of months. Hell, you’re better at following a paper trail than I was at your age.”

“So what’s to say it wouldn’t be the same if you taught me how to fight?”

Nikita cursed under her breath, massaging her temples. “You’re never going to give up, are you?” 

Alex shook her head unrepentantly, regarding her mentor with a hopeful smile.

“Look, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll teach you the basics of hand-to-hand combat, but I will decide when – and _if_ \- you’re ready to take a more active role in the missions. And that’s a big ‘if,’ OK?”

Alex clapped her hands in delight and bounced up and down in what looked suspiciously like a victory dance, and Nikita regarded her wryly. 

“You really want me throwing you around the place?”

Alex bumped her mentor’s shoulder, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “Yeah, I really do.”

Nikita couldn’t help but laugh, levelling Alex with one of her all-too-rare smiles. Their eyes locked in a moment of unguarded affection, until the Assassin cleared her throat, hastily springing to her feet.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

Nikita held out her hand, and Alex had a strange feeling of déjà vu as she reached out to take it. 

“I don’t know why you think you’re such a terrible person,” she said softly, threading her fingers through Nikita’s as the other woman hauled her to her feet, “But I’m not leaving you to do this alone. No way.”

* * *

“Make a wish.”

“What?” Alex jumped as Nikita crept up behind her, her nose wrinkling at the smell of burning wax.

Nikita dropped an envelope into Alex’s lap and laid a small, but lavish-looking chocolate cake on the table between them, turning to face the younger woman with a warm smile.

“Happy birthday.”

Alex regarded the cake with a dumbfounded expression, her posture stiffening against the back of her chair. 

“Hey,” Nikita’s eyebrows furrowed with concern as she watched her protégé’s cheeks turn ashen. “What’s wrong?”

One look at the blazing candles, and she had her answer. 

“Shit. I’m sorry, Alex, I didn’t think.” 

Nikita hastily blew them out, hoping to erase whatever memory had invoked the desolate expression on Alex’s face. She approached the younger woman carefully, not wanting to startle her, and perched on the armrest of Alex’s chair.

“No, it’s not that. I…” Alex blinked a couple of times, fingering the edge of the envelope with shaking hands. “I just didn’t know it was my birthday today, that’s all,” she concluded flatly.

“It’s been a while since you had a reason to celebrate, huh?” Alex could see the warmth and understanding in Nikita’s expression, and it made holding back the tears that much harder. She squeezed her eyes shut, not trusting herself to speak, and nodded. Nikita’s chest tightened in empathy. “Alex, I didn’t mean to dredge up bad memories for you. I just wanted to – ”

“I know,” Alex assured her, keeping her eyes fixed on the table, “Just give me a minute, OK?”

She stood up, and the unopened card clattered to the floor. Alex stared at it blankly for a moment, and then made a beeline for the bathroom, sucking in a ragged breath when Nikita’s hands came to rest against her shoulders, effectively trapping her in place.

“Come on, Alex. Talk to me.” 

Alex shook her head, pulling away when Nikita attempted to ease her into a warm embrace. The Assassin hesitated for a moment, and then tried again, refusing to relinquish her grasp as Alex struggled against her. What started out as a hug quickly became a clinch-hold, and Alex had no option but to whimper into Nikita’s chest as the other woman traced comforting circles against the fabric of her sweater. 

“Please, let me go,” she pleaded brokenly, but Nikita shook her head, lacing her fingers through the younger woman’s hair and caressing the nape of her neck. Alex continued to fight half-heartedly against her mentor’s ministrations, but Nikita just pulled her closer, and the primal part of Alex that was crying out for comfort couldn’t ignore how desperately she wanted to give in.

“I’ve got you. Just relax,” Nikita murmured, pressing her lips to Alex’s forehead as the younger woman’s resolve finally crumbled.  

Alex buried her face into the crook of Nikita’s shoulder and clung to her convulsively, tears cascading down her cheeks. She tried to smother her sobs, but when Nikita guided her to the floor and pulled her into her lap, Alex’s shoulders started to shake uncontrollably. As Nikita cradled her, rocking her back and forth, Alex cried harder than she had in years - for all the forgotten birthdays, and because someone finally cared enough to remember. 

When Alex raised her head to meet concerned hazel eyes, she suddenly became less cognizant of her own grief and more aware of Nikita’s proximity. The softness of the body beneath her, the gentleness of the hands caressing her back, the swell of the breasts rising and falling against her cheek. The brunette’s usually impassive features were etched with pain, and Alex wondered if Nikita understood her anguish all too well.

“Y-ou always told me it was r-rude to question a gift, right?” Alex eventually managed to joke, “Well, you must think I’m p-pretty fucking ungrateful right now.” Nikita couldn’t help but laugh, using her thumb to gently wipe away the remnants of Alex’s tears. 

“I thought everyone liked chocolate cake,” she teased lightly. “Maybe I should opt for buttercream next time.”

“Next time?” Alex ventured hopefully, and Nikita ducked her head, not wanting to make a promise she couldn’t keep. 

“You want to take the rest of the day off? We could go to the movies, hit the mall, whatever you want.”

“Are you serious?” Alex asked incredulously, even more enchanted by Nikita’s smile now that the other woman’s face was only inches away from her own. “I should cry more often, huh?”

Nikita tsked her disapproval, and moved to extricate herself from their embrace, but Alex held fast, levelling Nikita with an expression that was almost bashful.

“Can we stay like this? Just for a little while longer?”

Nikita hesitated, but when she saw the aching vulnerability in Alex’s eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to say no. 

“Considering I practically had to wrestle you to get you here in the first place, I guess so.”

Alex heaved a sigh that was part relief and part contentment, burrowing back into Nikita’s arms. They lapsed into companionable silence for a moment, until Alex shifted slightly, casting a furtive glance in Nikita’s direction.

“What?” the Assassin asked softly, trying to decipher the myriad of emotions playing across Alex’s features as blue eyes studied her with unnerving intensity. 

It wasn’t often that she was caught off-guard, but the kiss took Nikita completely by surprise. When soft lips brushed sweetly against her own, Nikita almost wrote it off as a simple gesture of affection; a belated “thank you” for her birthday gift. But Alex quickly returned for more, and when the younger woman’s mouth descended on hers for a second time, instigating a lingering kiss that was definitely not of the chaste variety, Nikita momentarily forgot how to breathe.

For a fleeting moment, she couldn’t help but respond, and her eyelids fluttered closed as Alex’s fingers wound through her hair and her tentative exploration became more insistent. Then common sense prevailed, and Nikita forced herself to pull away while she still had the willpower to do so.

“Alex, stop,” she said hoarsely, but her tone was more resigned than reproachful. She pressed her forehead against the younger woman’s so Alex wouldn’t construe the withdrawal as an outright rejection. “We can’t do this.”

“Why not? I mean, you want to, right?” Alex ran her fingertips along the length of Nikita’s forearm, grazing her ribcage in the process, and the sharp intake of breath told her all she needed to know.

“It doesn’t matter what I want. You’re upset, and you’re confusing gratitude with… something else.” Nikita clasped the younger woman’s hand, squeezing it gently. “You don’t owe me anything, OK?”

Alex looked indignant. “So you think I’m whoring myself out to you as a token of my appreciation?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“I never _let_ anyone take advantage of me, Nikita,” Alex said bitterly. “They drugged me up to the eyeballs and _forced_ me to do what they wanted. You don’t think I have the ability to recognise when I actually want something for myself?”

“Then your perception must be skewed, Alex, because you deserve a hell of a lot better than what I can offer you,” Nikita retorted, hoping her expression didn’t betray her anguish.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, Nikita. I’m not blind,” Alex’s tone was softer now, but her expression hardened when Nikita pulled away, leaping to her feet.

“Alex, we’re not having this conversation, OK?”

“Would you just…” Alex heaved an aggrieved sigh, running after Nikita and clasping her forearm. “Would you just listen to me? Please?”

Nikita slowed to a standstill, but she refused to meet the younger woman’s gaze. 

“I owe you my life and, yes, I’m grateful for everything that you’ve done for me. But that’s not what this is about.” Alex took a chance, cupping the other woman’s face in her hands, “You make me feel things that I didn’t know were possible, OK? You make me _happy._ And when you kissed me back, I...” Alex trailed off, visibly overcome with emotion, and Nikita glanced up at her sharply.

“Alex…”

“No. You said I could make a wish, right? Well, I want to know what it’s like to kiss someone who I actually care about. Someone who actually cares about me.”

Nikita finally looked up, her eyes awash with longing. “I care about you, Alex, more than you know, but – ”

“Then kiss me,” Alex interrupted, edging closer, until their hips were sandwiched together and their noses were inches apart. She hesitated, ducking her head, “But not out of pity, OK? Do it because you mean it.”

Nikita knew that this was probably going to end in disaster and already hated herself for giving into temptation, but when she saw the insecurity painted plainly across Alex’s features, alleviating it didn’t feel like an abuse of authority. Nikita lifted a hand to trace the outline of the younger woman's jaw with her fingertips, her stomach sinking when Alex looked up at her with a heart-wrenching blend of trust and anticipation.

“Come here,” she murmured, and when Alex eagerly bridged the gap between them, Nikita didn't hold back, clasping the younger woman's waist and drawing her into a heated kiss. 

Their lips melded together in a seamless game of give and take, and Alex whimpered her approval, fisting her hands in Nikita's hair. After a few moments, she dared to close her eyes, absorbing the sensation of Nikita sucking lightly on her collarbone, nuzzling her neck, and breathing whispered reassurances into her ear. As always, the other woman worked hard to earn her trust, but ensconced in Nikita's embrace and surrounded by the scent of home, Alex felt completely secure. Backing Nikita up against a nearby wall, Alex urged her mentor to deepen the kiss, sucking on Nikita's lower lip until the brunette finally lost what was left of her restraint and effortlessly switched their positions. Alex felt the weight of the other woman settle against her, moaned as her sweater rode up and left them skin-on-skin. The slow-burn making her stomach quiver only intensified when Nikita took up her invitation to spar, and as their tongues clashed, Alex - as always - found herself awed by her instructor's technique. When Nikita eased a thigh between her legs, the surge of arousal nearly made her knees buckle, and Alex could only clutch feebly at the brunette's T-shirt.

"Nikita - " she gasped, and suddenly hooded hazel eyes were fixed intently on her own. Alex broke into a giddy grin, her eyes dancing mischievously.

"I think I know how I want to spend the rest of my birthday.”


End file.
